


There's No Light In This Paradise

by thegaygladers



Category: The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: M/M, SEQUEL TO TDC, TDC NEWTMAS, The Death Cure, kind of, newtmas - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-04
Updated: 2015-11-04
Packaged: 2018-04-30 00:35:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5143826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegaygladers/pseuds/thegaygladers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thomas <em>misses</em> Newt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	There's No Light In This Paradise

It has been a month since the Gladers arrived in the namely “paradise.” The atmosphere here is happy and cheerful, a contrast to the past few years of the Gladers’ and the other immunes’ lives. There is no sign of cranks or of any disease. There are kids laughing and playing in grassy lands and adolescents falling in love. It is almost as if their lives are normal, had always been normal. Everyone is  _smiling_.

Everyone apart from a certain brown haired boy, who refuses to display any emotion at all.

Thomas.

No one, not even Thomas’s closest friend Minho, knows what is going through the young boy’s head.

If you’d seen Thomas the day he arrived, he would have looked like a child on Christmas day. That didn’t last very long, however, as the only thing spinning through his head now was the thing he wanted to remember least, sucking all traces of joy out of him like a black hole.

_Newt._

He remembers how the blond-haired boy smiled, and how the boy smelt. How soft the older boy’s skin was despite the many cuts and bruises that he’d attained in his short life, and how his eyes always lit up when he caught Thomas staring. Thomas remembers the prominent veins on the boy’s arms and neck and how much the boy cared about everyone but himself.

He remembers the way the boy called him “Tommy.”

He remembers how the boy had repeated that same name, over and over, begging Thomas for mercy... For death.

He remembers how the boy had lost all his sanity within weeks, and how _feral_ the boy had looked that day.

The day Thomas had pulled the trigger.

 _“KILL ME!”_  the boy had yelled. “ _Please, Tommy. Please_ ,” the boy had whispered.

Thomas cries every day, ever since he got here. When people are hunting, cooking, sleeping. Thomas cries.

To other people he seems numb, indifferent, unfeeling.

At night, though, when there’s no one staring at him worriedly or force-feeding him food that he’d eventually throw up, he hugs his knees close to his chest, shaking and screaming into his hands. He traces his fingers where he remembers Newt touching him, feeling a strange sort of cold and emptiness where there used to be warmth.

The only thing he feels now is a deep ache in his chest where it seems as if half of his heart has been ripped out.

He misses the laughter only him and the boy shared. He misses the boy’s sarcasm and clever remarks. He misses the rare snappy tone the boy acquired when he was in a particularly bad mood. He misses the boy he loved and loves still.

_Thomas misses Newt._

He tries to kill himself every day, end it once and for all, but each time someone saves him. Someone that still cares about the breathing but lifeless mess that Thomas has become. Someone like Minho, or Brenda, or Gally.

_“I like you, Greenie.”_

_“I’m glad you’re alive and all.”_

_“Please, Tommy. Please.”_

Thomas remembers nothing apart from every word Newt had ever spoken.

Thomas doesn’t remember his own name, but he can tell you exactly how long Newt’s hair was.

Thomas is alive, but he wishes he wasn’t.  

Thomas wishes he’d pulled the trigger twice.


End file.
